Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world is the property of J.K. Rowling.
The plot is of my own invention.
With the Christmas holidays past, the Goblin accountants busy examining the Muggle records for compensation, and two months before the next scheduled meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister, Arthur Weasley began to gather his staff and associated department representatives for the formal and official inquiry into the death of Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort. The snippets of truth which the Wizarding community at large could gather from various sources did far more to spur further questions than provide answers. The pressure was on, and Minister of Magic, Marcus Proudfoot, placed the senior Weasley on the hot-seat by committing to a February date to start the proceedings. Fortunately Arthur was not caught flat-footed and had sketched out some preliminary ideas.
Seemingly never-ending, highly energetic groundwork discussions ran long into the evening three or four days each week and through January. Arthur requested, and was granted, Percy‘s services to compile and condense the notes of the meetings. His true plan for using Percy, however, had little to do with his clerical abilities. Since he could not attend every meeting himself, Arthur needed someone trustworthy to keep an eye and ear open for any discussion of Horcruxes. Realistically, Arthur knew it would only be through dumb luck that the subject would be overlooked, and this time Arthur’s luck ran out. At the second meeting, his former “friend,” Gilbert Wimple, arrived with Bailey Snodgrass and McKenzie Twittle, the two lawyers representing most of the Death Eaters, and began to create problems.
As the official Ministry recorder, Percy was also responsible for enforcing the meeting’s parliamentary rules. Since Snodgrass, Twittle and Wimple arrived late they could only listen and request time at the next meeting, they were informed. All three blustered to the point where Percy had to call for security to escort the men from the room to restore order. He planned to visit his father immediately after his duties were complete that evening.
“They wanted to bring up the Horcruxes, father,” Percy said, a sick look on his face. Besides Arthur, Molly, Remus and Minerva McGonagall were at the Burrow late that evening and heard Percy’s report. “They were talking about them while being escorted out. I’m certain others heard also, though no one gave any indication that they recognized the word.”
“Can’t the Horcrux creation spell be monitored like any other Unforgivable?” Mrs. Weasley asked her husband.
“Molly, the Ministry can’t monitor a tenth of what they say they can,” Remus answered before Arthur could. “At least not any more. And we know there are ways to mask spells.”
“I… yes, you’re right of course, Remus.”
Arthur drummed his fingers, a nervous habit he’d had all his life. “No, at first I’m afraid that we can only rely upon the revulsion our fellow wizards and witches should feel over the requirements to create a Horcrux. Legislation will certainly follow, but we may have to take a more proactive approach to this problem. And it might help Harry, too. There are some ugly rumors going around about him not finishing off V-Voldemort this time, either.”
“That was inevitable, Arthur,” Remus added. “We all know Harry would rather become invisible than accept credit, or point the spotlight on himself.” All the heads around the table nodded in agreement, even Percy’s.
“I suppose I’ll have to take this to the Minister after all,” Arthur sighed.
“Take Aberforth with you, dear, he might be able to help.”
“Perhaps, but he’s not in good health, Ginny tells me. I’ll Owl him tonight.” Looking over the notes Percy had given him, Arthur was relieved to see there were no other issues to discuss. He thanked everyone for their support and they all retired to the parlor for tea except McGonagall.
“I have to return to school, Molly. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. And Molly, would you please give this to Ronald?” She handed over a large envelope and then Floo’d back to Scotland.
“Father, are we going to include the Americans in the inquiry?” Percy asked.
“I’d like to, though we cannot force them to attend. The same will be true for Boris Titov. I wish Morley-Mauer could be there, too; his knowledge of Horcruxes would have been invaluable. Hopefully Aberforth can fill in the missing information.”
“Charlie, too,” Percy reminded his father.
“Right. His letter the other day said he was still recuperating, we will probably have to schedule him later in the process. And I doubt Tré will be available. Who do you have down so far?”
“Bill, Charlie, Harry, Ronald, Ginny, Hermione, Aberforth, Titov, Mellanson, Bill, Jimmy Twofeet and Jason Graham from the U.S., Profess... Headmistress McGonagall...” Arthur listened to the rest of the list and gave his approval.
“I will be sending out the first batch of subpoenas next week, please let me know if you have any changes.” Standing, Arthur walked Percy out to the parlor where he said goodnight to his mother and Apparated home.
“The what?!” a voice called from the kitchen.
“Ketchup. Will you bring out the ketchup when you come back… please?” Ron added hastily after catching his sister’s disapproving look.
The door between the formal dining room at Grimmauld Place and the kitchen banged open as Diane Bradley carried out the last of the side dishes. A seldom used container of Heinz Ketchup, with a year worth of the dried red condiment clearly visible under the cap, sat in the front pocket of her pinny. It was, Harry noticed, the same one Molly Weasley frequently wore when staying over.
Hermione grimaced as Ron opened the bottle and started pouring its contents on his filet mignon. Others watched in silent amusement.
“Wha’d I do?”
Harry leaned over slightly. “Ron, you usually don’t put ketchup on this kind of meat.”
“Why not?”
Harry shrugged and they left Ron to his own unique devices for the balance of the meal. When the dishes and bowls were cleared off, the five teens sat in awkward silence until Ron spoke again. “That was bloody superb, Diane. Where’d you learn to cook like that?”
“Oh, you know, Ron, we women just naturally know how to cook.” She twirled her hands above her head dramatically. Harry, Ginny and Hermione chuckled. Ron felt like he had become the butt of a joke.
“So, Ron, what’s the big announcement?” Hermione asked, seeing her ex-boyfriend was not volunteering any information. She had been curious since she saw Harry the day before and couldn’t wait to ask.
“Huh? Oh, that, ‘s‘nothing. I asked McGonagall if I could finish the year…” Harry and Ginny already knew this but feigned surprise. Diane just listened intently, watching Hermione out of the corner of her eye. “…but she said no.”
“WHAT?! She didn’t!” Hermione shouted in mortified astonishment.
Now Ron laughed. “Yeah, had to promise her my first-born before she would change her mind.”
Three pairs of eyes made quick, subtle glances at their bushy-haired friend. She was trying to remain calm but it was obviously a lost cause. Ron was looking down, as if he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking. He was shaken from his private deliberations by Hermione’s hands taking his.
“Good on you, Ron. Excellent! I’m so happy you’ll… I’ll… we’ll… oh bloody hell, this is great. We’ll all be together again.”
Harry, Ginny and Diane shared a knowing look.
Ron turned to Hermione. “You’re really happy, ‘Mione? I mean, thanks, yeah, I’ve really missed you… all… of course, except you, Diane, never really got a chance to know you too much…” His babbling was cut off by Hermione pulling him up and giving him a warm embrace.
Sitting back down, Hermione began to spew out, from memory, all the things Ron would have to catch up on. Ron, for his part, just nodded sagely and listened.
Later that evening, Harry had Dobby and Winky take his guests around the house to show off their redecorating skills. Remus and Tonks had spontaneously decided to take a trip to the Isle of Wright for a couple days, so the House-Elves’ work had progressed faster than originally planned. To Ron’s delight he saw that Harry had instructed the decorators to paint one room Chudley Cannon orange, “For when you spend the night, Ron,” Harry told his friend, clapping him on the back. Turning to Hermione, he added “If you’re not busy tomorrow, the Elves are tackling the library. Feel free to help them; it’s always open to you.”
Hermione beamed.
Before leaving for the Burrow, Ron mentioned to Harry and Diane that they would be receiving official Ministry subpoenas in a few days for the inquiry. Both took this news silently and nodded; though Diane’s face was in a scowl. After bidding everyone goodnight, Ron and Ginny returned to the Burrow (Molly had discovered Lupin and Tonks were absent) and Hermione to her home. Harry and Diane walked to the drawing room and sat.
“So the inquisition starts next month, eh?”
“Inquiry, Di, not inquisition.” Harry tried to make light of the news, though he did not feel particularly happy himself.
“Ok.” A pause. “So all’s well between you and Hermione?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Absolutely. Did you see her light up tonight when Ron said he was returning?”
“Could hardly miss it; I thought she was going to start drooling.”
“Say, Di, thanks for bringing Hermione up the other day.” Harry said sincerely, then grimaced.
“You ok?”
“Haven’t been feeling well the past couple hours. I kipped out earlier but woke up feeling worse.”
Diane shook her head. “What does ‘kipped out’ mean?”
Massaging his temples, Harry was looking paler by the minute. “Rest, sleep…”
“Want some acetaminophen?”
“No… what is it?”
“Like aspirin, you know, for a headache.”
“Cripes, Di, just get me one of the headache potions from the cupboard, would you?” Harry was barely able to get the question out, and as Diane got up the front doorbell rang. “Bloody hell, who’s that?”
“I’ll see, Harry. You lie back.” Running to the door, Diane opened it to find Bill and Fleur.
“Hi, Diane, is Harry around? Sorry to pop in like this, we were down the street this afternoon visiting friends… is something wrong?” Bill asked when he noticed a look of concern on her face.
“No, Harry’s just not feeing well. Come in… hi Fleur.” Giving them both a quick bus on the cheek, Diane ushered them into the drawing room where she and Harry had just been talking. “Hang on, Harry, I’ll get the potion.”
Bill looked on as Harry massaged his temples; Fleur stepped up and sat with him. “’Ere, ‘Arry, let me do zat. Women ‘ave a better tooch.” Then moving his hands, she used her thumbs to work out the knotted muscles from his jaw up both sides of his skull. He groaned, but Fleur wasn’t sure if it was from pain or relief.
“Here you are, Harry. Is this the one?” Diane asked, handing him a bottle labeled ‘Headache Remedy.’
“When did all this start?” Bill asked.
“Just a minute ago. Harry, how are you feeling?”
“Hurts…” was all he could say.
Fleur glanced at her husband and then asked Harry, “’Arry, zis is not your scar ‘urting, ees eet?” To everyone’s relief he shook his head no.
“Harry, let me get mum, she might have an idea,” Bill offered. When Harry didn’t respond he took it upon himself to act. A moment later he was in the Floo network on his way to the Burrow.
After a minute Harry said, “It’s getting better, I think. Maybe I’ll just go to bed.”
“Are you sure, ‘Arry?”
“Yeah…” But when he stood up Fleur had to steady him.
Shaking her head, Diane took his arm “Right, Harry, off we go.”
Fleur and Diane helped Harry up the stairs and to his bedroom. With a wave of her wand, the American changed Harry’s clothes into pajamas and warmed the bed. Fleur looked impressed. Collapsing onto his bed, Harry pulled the covers up and rolled over; he seemed to drop off to sleep immediately.
Not a minute later, Ginny and Ron came into the room followed closely by Mrs. Weasley. After a short discussion, Bill and Fleur went home, Ron went down to read, and Mrs. Weasley, Diane and Ginny began to argue over who should stay with Harry. Ginny knew it was a lost cause and clumped furiously down the stairs where she dragged Ron off to Floo home.
After further discussion, Diane convinced Mrs. Weasley that she was perfectly capable of taking care of Harry and promised to send for her should there be any other attacks. Fairly pushing the last guest from the room, Diane got ready for bed and returned to check on Harry. She stood protectively over him, thinking, and making a decision. Conjuring a day-bed from the ugly, green, overstuffed chair Harry so liked, Diane lay down and dimmed the lamp. She watched her friend for a few minutes before snuffing the light and laying down to sleep; Harry’s peaceful breathing the only sound.
The next morning Harry woke without any pain or discomfort. He and Diane sat in bed talking and enjoyed breakfast served by Winky, who gave Diane frequent curious glances. When she left with the dishes, both laughed. “She probably thinks I’m cheating on Ginny, or something,” he snorted.
Diane remained silent for a moment before startling Harry with a comment. “I wonder if any House-Elves are gay.” Laughing at Harry’s opened mouth, she jumped out of bed and started to leave to dress. “What should we do today?” she asked before closing the door.
“Find you someone, I think,” Harry replied, dryly.
“Hmm, I asked Fred if he wanted to go out next weekend. Does that count?”
“Come on, Di, don’t lead him on.” He snapped, irritation obvious in his tone.
“You’re such a dolt, Harry. Ginny and Hermione go out together all the time. Are they lesbians?”
“NO!”
“There you are, because I go out with a guy doesn’t mean… oh, hell, Harry, figure it out for yourself.” Diane slammed the door shut.
A few minutes later, Harry exited the shower and was dressing when his door opened. Grabbing his shirt quickly, he saw it was only Ginny. “You decent?”
“Yeah, Gin, come on in.”
“Too bad,” she pouted, walking up to him and planting a kiss on his lips. Harry tried to pull her in closer but she pushed him away. “Yuck, Harry, what did you eat for breakfast? Never mind, go wash your mouth.”
Shaking his head, Harry trudged back to the loo, returning a minute later. “Better?” he asked with another kiss.
“Much.” Ginny flopped on Harry’s bed, not before noticing the other one nearby. “Did Diane stay in here last night, Harry?”
“Er, yeah… I didn’t realize it till this morning. I guess she wanted to keep an eye one me.” Scratching his arm nervously, Harry sat next to Ginny on the bed. “Does it bother you?”
“I suppose it does, a little at least.” She turned to look at Harry squarely. “Pretty silly, isn’t it?” she asked seriously.
“No, Gin, not at all. She acts very insecure at times, I think that’s part of the reason she does that. You do know I’d much rather have you here, don’t you?”
“Sleeping over there?” she retorted, arching her eyebrows mischievously.
“No. And you know the answer to that question, too, love.” Pulling Ginny down next to him, Harry kissed her and she instantly knew he was telling the truth.
“It’s been a long time, Harry,” Ginny groaned, rolling over a minute later. “I can’t believe it’s been three months since we…”
“What?! Are you keeping track?” Harry asked in obvious horror.
“Of course I am. That’s what girls do.” Harry buried his face in the pillow and Ginny laughed again. They tussled playfully for a few minutes, stealing kisses and tickling each other until they saw Ron standing at the door, an amused look on his face.
“Watch where you put those hands, Potter!” he said, but without a trace of animosity.
“Oh, go away, Ron,” his sister retorted. “Harry, can we see your albums? Diane mentioned that you’d looked at them the other day.”
“Yeah, mate, show us the Potter family.”
“Sure, they’re over there,” Harry said, pointing to the desk. “Bring them over and have a look.”
Harry, Ron and Ginny poured over both albums for the next hour while in the background Dobby and Winky could be heard working on the floor above. At some point Ankaa appeared quietly, perching himself atop Harry’s shoulder and looking at the pictures with some interest. When finished they took a long walk around the neighborhood, something impossible in the past. All three marveled at the Victorian architecture and the large, spacious lots.
Arriving back at number 12 early afternoon they found Diane reading in the parlor. Upon seeing Harry, she scowled and turned to Ginny. “Hermione Floo’d and wanted to know if we would like to meet in Diagon Alley tomorrow for lunch. Fred, George and Verity will be joining us.” After another annoyed look at Harry she went back to her book.
The final day before returning to Hogwarts, Harry, Diane, Ginny and Ron met up with Fred, George, Verity and Hermione for lunch. Diagon Alley was especially crowded and the twins excused themselves early, claiming ‘lost business’ if they stayed too long, thought they told Verity to stay if she wished. Ron also left early; he needed to purchase books and other supplies. Harry watched him closely, wondering if he would ask Hermione to help him. He did not. Hermione sighed when Ron left, and pretended like nothing was amiss; Harry, Diane and Ginny suspected otherwise.
Harry’s plan for deeding Grimmauld Place to Remus and Tonks worked perfectly that same evening. When the engaged couple returned Harry presented them with the deed and title to the property. Both were stunned by the gift and the transformed house. Tonks pulled Harry into a long, tight embrace while her hair flashed uncontrollably between brick-red and aquamarine. Remus was speechless but shook his best friend’s son’s hand and then embraced him also. Harry pointed out that, due to some arcane Wizarding laws, Kreacher would have to revert back to Harry’s ownership, then to Remus and Tonks where his final disposition would be determined. Everyone present had a sour look on their face when the old House-Elf was called.
“Kreacher must obey his lawful owner,” he whined, face turned down. “But Kreacher thanks the Potter brat for bringing poor Kreacher back to his mistress’s house.” With this, the miserable, decrepit being shuffled over to where Mrs. Black’s portrait used to hang on the wall.
Seeing it gone, he looked back at Harry. “Where is mistress, Kreacher wonders? Where are my ancestors?”
“They’re gone now, Kreacher,” Harry said spitefully. “And as of this moment, you now belong to Remus Lupin. And when he marries, you must also answer to his wife, Nymphadora Tonks. I release you from my ownership now.” Harry turned to Remus. “You better give him a command to be sure the magic has bound him to you.”
Nodding, Remus looked at the pitiful elf. “Sit down,” he said gently. When he saw the elf comply he continued. “Don’t worry, Kreacher, we don’t plan to keep you here.”
“New master is kind to poor Kreacher.” But every syllable of the comment was forced and overflowing with contempt.
“Kreacher, I command you to return to Hogwarts and live out the rest of your days as an aid to the housekeeping staff. Now get out of here.”
With one last loathsome look, Kreacher stood and vanished from Grimmauld for the last time.
Diane, who had been silently watching the happenings from across the room, spoke up for the first time. “Lord, what a nasty thing he is. It is a ‘he,’ isn’t it?”
Tonks laughed. “Yes, he’s a right barmy one. I’m glad he’s gone.”
Remus, Tonks and Harry sat with Diane and told stories of their holiday. Both looked well rested, even for such a short time away and Harry was delighted to see they were holding hands. Shying at public displays of affection, they seemed far more comfortable together now, more than any other time.
“Remus, Harry showed me the albums the other day,” Diane said when the conversation died out. Remus glanced towards him and raised his eyes questioningly.
“Er “ yeah, finally got to it. Say, there’s a picture of my dad towards the back of Sirius’s album. It said something about Auror training, and he looked worn out. What was that about?”
“Did it give a year?” Remus asked.
“1978, wasn’t it, Di?” She confirmed the year with a nod.
“Ok, that must have been when the Ministry sent your parents to the Americas for their final six months of training. I remember James would come by every so often, but it was really tough to get away. They were in Mexico and Columbia, I think, most of the time. The last few weeks were a survival course in the wild. They had to be able to live off the land, without a wand, for a month.”
“A month without a wand?” asked Harry incredulously.
“Well, it was a good incentive to learn wandless magic. Lily was pretty good at it, too, if I recall.”
Harry sat silent for a couple minutes. “There’s so much about them I never knew. Do all Aurors do this survival training?”
Tonks answered this one. “No, there are different levels you can train for. Your parents were probably training to be Trackers, not surprising given the nature of the first war against Voldemort.”
“And they probably trained together,” Remus added. “I just don’t recall. They were a good team.” A faint tone of sadness was in his voice. “But they finished right at the end of the year and were commissioned in January of ’79. I remember it because your mother returned quite ill with some tropical parasite or infection. She was at St. Mungo’s for a couple weeks. Obviously she recovered, and that fall she announced she was pregnant, with you, Harry. You know, son, you might want to write this all down in the albums so you can pass it on to your children some day.”
The four sat in a comfortable silence while Harry was thinking about Remus’s suggestion. Tonks was entertaining Diane by making her nose grow longer, then shorter, then into a pig snout.
“I told Harry to grow his hair long so he could put it in a pony-tail,” Diane told Tonks in a hushed voice. “He wouldn’t have to try to paste it down all the time.” The girls giggled.
“Like this?” Harry asked.
Remus, Tonks and Diane looked back at Harry and saw his hair was well below his shoulders. He reached behind his head and twisted it into a crude knot. All three spoke at the same time, asking him how he’d done that.
“I’ve always been able to make my hair long or short, even when I was a kid living with the Dursley’s. My Aunt Petunia would give me odd haircuts so everything was short except my fringe. I hated it so much I wished it was all the same length and it would just happen. Haven’t tried it in years, but it still works, I guess.”
Still in shock, the three just waited for Harry to say more. When he didn’t, Tonks did. “Harry, can you change any other part of your body?”
“Nah, I’ve tried it; can’t even get a moustache.”
“Too bad. Can you do it to others?”
“Long hair...?” Then he had an idea. Looking at Diane he touched her head. Remus and Tonks eyes got wider, even Harry was startled a little.
“Wow!” Tonks exclaimed in obvious amazement and wonder.
“What?” Diane asked in a panicky voice. Then putting her hand on her head she cried out. “What did you do?”
For the first time since she was very young, Diane’s hair was short.
“Harry! Put it back,” she cried out, and he did.
When the laughing had stopped, Harry again shortened his hair, muttering about how Ginny liked it short. At the top of the staircase Ankaa stood on the banister watching the four humans; the old snapshot which had fallen out of the large album a few days before held firmly in his beak. Soundlessly Ankaa flashed into Harry’s room and slid the picture back into the large album.
“Objection, your honor!” Twittle called out for the umpteenth time. “The prosecution is not allowing my client to answer the question.”
“Sit down, Mr. Twittle. You’ll have an opportunity to question Madam Umbridge in turn. Objection overruled. The jury will disregard Mr. Twittle’s comment. Mr. Gibson, please continue.”
Thanking the judge, Michael Gibson was happy to see that the Wizengamot operated much like his judiciary system... his ‘Muggle’ judiciary system. Percy Weasley’s invitation to act as prosecutor for this case was nearly as startling as his revelation of the existence of the Wizarding world a few months earlier. But his plea for a completely unbiased attorney was convincing, and here Gibson was.
“We can come back to that one later, Madam Umbridge. Yes or no, did you order two Dementors to Little Winging on...” Gibson looked back to his wizard assistant who handed him a slip of paper he had prepared. “...or about the 20th of July, 1996, to ‘suck the soul’ out of Harry James Potter?”
“I did what I had to do to...”
”Your honor, please instruct the witness, again, to answer the question as asked,” Gibson asked in frustration.
“He was spreading foul lies...”
“ENOUGH, Madam Umbridge. This is your final warning. You will answer the questions as asked or you will be held in contempt. Do you understand?”
Dolores Umbridge opened her mouth to speak but thought better of what to say. “Yes, ma’am.”
“See that you do. The jury will disregard Madam Umbridge’s comment. Mr. Gibson?”
“I’ll repeat the question. Yes or no, did you...”
“Yes, I did.”
“Thank you. Let’s see if we can get through this next question a little faster.”
Twittle rose again. “Objection! Counsel is badgering the witness.”
The judge looked down at the prosecuting attorney. “You know better than that, Mr. Gibson. Objection sustained.”
“Yes, your honor. Madam Umbridge: yes or no, on or about June 10, 1997 did you start to cast the...” Gibson looked at his notes, “Cruciatus Curse on Mr. Harry James Potter in direct violation of the Rules and Laws of your government?”
This time Umbridge smiled, her toady little eyes nearly invisible behind the rolls of fat on her screwed up face. “No, I did not.”
Gibson could hear murmurs of disbelief behind him, but he suppressed a smile. The judge banged her gavel for silence. “No? So you say that the testimony of Ms. Hermione Jane Granger this morning is incorrect?”
“No, I did start to cast the spell, but it was within my discretionary powers which spells I use to force the truth out of Potter.” She looked into the court room and smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back, unconsciously rubbing a finger over the ‘I must not tell lies’ scar on the back of his hand.
“Yes, yes, your educational decree number twenty-five. Is this the authority to which you refer?” Gibson handed Umbridge a tattered, official looking paper with Fudge’s and her signature at the bottom.
“Yes, it is.”
“I see.” Gibson walked back to his table and took a drink of water. Then he picked up a large, heavy book titled ‘Laws Most Ancient.’
“Your honor, members of the jury, I would like to present this book of laws as exhibit number twelve, in particular page twenty-nine, section one, paragraph A, subparagraph 1, rule 1 which reads: ‘To the use of these Unforgivables there is no redress.’ This is, as you well know, referring to the three Unforgivable Curses in the Wizarding world: the Death Curse, the Control Curse and the Torture Curse. Now, Madam, would you please read rule 2?”
Gibson handed the book to Umbridge. Squinting, she read the second rule as directed in her squeaky, annoying, simpering voice. “’No person of authority may pardon or parole a fellow witch or wizard, justly convicted by a jury of their peers, for using the Unforgivables.’”
“Thank you. Now please look a few lines further down at rule seventeen. Madam Umbridge, would you please read the highlighted portion of this book?”
Her face turned red. “No thank you.”
“Never mind,” Gibson said, retrieving the book and returning it to the table where he picked up a small pile of paper. “Your honor, here are copies of rule seventeen, I would like them entered as exhibit number thirteen.” He handed one to the judge, one to the court recorder, one to Twittle and a few more to the Wizengamot, keeping one for himself.
“Amended 3 May 1931, the rule reads: ‘No spell, curse, hex, potion or charm may be used to force an under-aged wizard or witch to incriminate themselves when questioned by persons in authority over said which or wizard.’ Now tell me, Madam Umbridge, how was your attempted use of the Cruciatus Curse legal under this rule?”
“There appears to be a conflict,” she said magisterially.
“So there is, Madam Umbridge, or so it would appear. How fortunate it would be for you if there was a conflict.”
“Yes, Mr. Gibson,” Umbridge wheezed. “In all issues of statutory ambiguity the Minister of Magic has the authority to rule as he or she sees fit. Minister Fudge and I discussed this exact situation and he provided me with written authority, as the law prescribes, to act as I choose.”
Scattered boo’s and jeer’s filled the court room. Again the judge gaveled them to silence.
“I see,” Gibson replied sagely. Feigning confusion, he led Umbridge deeper into the hole she was digging herself. He had also stealthfully placed himself between Umbridge and Twittle. “You and Fudge saw the legal ambiguity and reasoned out ways to grant you proper authority.” Umbridge should have noticed that Gibson had just made a statement, not asked a question.
“Yes, we did. That’s why my actions were wholly legal.” Umbridge folded her arms, buffing the fingernails of her right hand on her left arm.
“That sounds like a thorough explanation to me,” Gibson said neutrally. “I’m certain that your counsel will have you explain how Minister Fudge also notified the Wizengamot of both you and his actions and intentions, as is prescribed by section one, paragraph B, subparagraph 2, rule 2, entered into the Code of Wizards by the Wizengamot 7 December 1994, which states that: ‘The Wizengamot must be notified, in writing, of any and all extraordinary privileges and/or authorities granted to any wizard or witch by the Minister of Magic or his/her acting deputy. This includes, but is not limited to, any decree(s), ruling(s), judgment(s), order(s), law(s), command(s), dictate(s) and/or pronouncement(s) which are outside the usual and customary practices.’ Oh yes, and it finishes with this comment: ‘This is particularly applicable to any waiver of serious offense(s) and/or the use of any Unforgivable Curses.’ I wonder, Madam Umbridge… oh, yes, and this was signed into law 8 December 1994, by Cornelius Fudge… if your counsel will show us that you truly had the authority for any of these Educational Decrees.” Gibson paused, his face just centimeters from the witnesses. “Do you think the Wizengamot was properly notified?”
Umbridge sat, her face red and her hands gripping the seat of her chair tightly. She said nothing; she knew the answer.
Gibson waited. Silence is golden! “I think it’s time to move on,” he continued, all pretense of confusion gone. “Madam Umbridge, you’ve heard the testimony of others present the night Mr. Potter fought Lord Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic. Yes or no, did you use Veritaserum on Mr. Harry James Potter that same school year without so informing him?”
“I choose not to answer,” Umbridge said, her reply seething.
“I beg your pardon, Madam Umbridge, what was that? You choose not to answer? Why is that?”
“Because-I-might-incriminate-myself.”
”Objection!”
”Sit DOWN Mr. Twittle!”
“I see. Just to make sure the jury understands you: you said that you refuse to answer the question because the answer might incriminate you. It that correct?”
Umbridge nodded.
“Let the court recorder show that the witness nodded her head in the affirmative.”
“One last question, Madam Umbridge. Seeing as the man fancying himself Lord Voldemort truly had returned in the spring of 1996, and that Harry James Potter was, in fact, telling the truth about his return: do you have any remorse whatsoever for torturing Mr. Potter throughout that school year for lying? Seeing as he was right... and you were wrong... weren’t you a bit... overzealous?”
Umbridge leaned forward. “No.”
“You weren’t a tad harsh?”
She stood. “NO!”
“You feel your actions were completely justified?”
“YES!”
“And you’d feel completely comfortable doing it again, under the same circumstances?”
Banging her meaty fist on the witness box railing, she screamed out: “YES! YES! YES!”
“Thank you, Madame, Umbridge. No further questions, your honor.” Walking back to his seat, Gibson turned to Twittle. “Your witness,” he said, smiling. Twittle just shook his head.
Later that day Harry and Hermione headed back to Hogwarts. At first they were reserved, neither speaking until Harry burst out laughing as they approached the Head Boy/Head Girl Suite.
“What’s so funny, Harry?”
“I was just thinking, today was one of the best days of my life.”
Hermione considered rebuking her friend for gloating over another person’s misfortune, but she let it go. Besides, she was feeling pretty good herself.
A month into the second half of the term, Ron found himself buried under a mountain of catch-up work. Harry, Ginny, Diane and Hermione all helped as best they could, sharing notes or quizzing him. They were also pleasantly surprised to see that he complained little and appeared to be truly interested in good grades, as well as the number of N.E.W.T.S. he achieved. He still insisted on breaks for “refreshments,” as he called his snack time, but the others also came to find relief in these pauses as the weeks went by.
The trial of Dolores Umbridge finished a few weeks after Harry and Hermione’s testimony. There were very few tears shed when the Daily Prophet put out a special edition notifying the Wizarding community that Umbridge had died suddenly as the guilty verdict was read to her. Ron was less reserved. “The old bitch had it coming,” he could be heard saying whenever someone asked what he thought. No one, even the Headmistress who had overheard him once, admonished Ron for his blunt assessment of the event.
As February started, the liveliest topics of discussion were the return of twenty-four Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students and the start of the official inquiry to the rise and fall of Lord Voldemort. The students had been cleared of all charges dealing with aiding Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself. No one was surprised to see that all of these students were first or second years. Also, three Ravenclaw and two Hufflepuff students who had not been present since September appeared. The unexplained assumption is that they were also tied up in something shady. It took, however, quite a while for most of the student body to accept the twenty-four back as the innocent children they were. Hermione and Harry had to frequently use their authority to settle tense situations all throughout the school.
The inquiry rapidly became more of a bother than anticipated as thirty-two students were subpoenaed to testify, but Headmistress McGonagall could do little about it. Obviously Harry and Diane would miss a few days of class; Ron, Ginny, Hermione and the rest would be out half a day. That was the plan. And as if to prove the old saying, ‘If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans,’ everything fell apart from the start.
It wasn’t Arthur Weasley’s fault, though some blame might have been directed his way, but the subject of Horcruxes arose the first day of testimony. It was inevitable, really. Fortunately, Harry was present that day, and being the one most familiar with the subject, as it had played out over the past fifty years, resignedly nodded to Arthur Weasley when he looked to Harry for support. A brief recess was called during which Arthur told Harry to answer any and every question truthfully and completely. Both had discussed this late the previous year and concluded that once the issue was breached the best approach would be to tell everything.
So it began.
Arthur, as head of the inquiry, reserved the right to question Harry first. And the first question was broad enough for Harry to spend the next three hours answering it. Members of the press and the Wizarding community present as visitors to the proceedings sat in slack-jawed amazement as Harry’s story unfolded. Members of Arthur’s committee were also generally amazed, though many showed clear signs of having knowledge of Horcruxes. These were the three members from the Pure Blood faction, and the ones who had brought up the subject in the first place.
The purpose of this action was never made clear, except, perhaps, to somehow trip up Harry Potter, or perhaps to catch him in a lie. The subject was so broad and complex that if Harry had not been so intimately familiar with the topic he might have been nailed by a simple slip. But it did not happen.
Harry, who had spent many a night with Hermione organizing his notes, stepped through every part of the life of Tom Riddle and his rise to power. He skillfully skirted over Horace Slughorn’s involvement in Riddle’s first known inquiries about Horcruxes. He knew more probing questions would follow, but for now the issue was side-stepped. Using his Pensieve to show snippets of his and Dumbledore’s conversations, Harry brought gasps of horror and more than a few cheers on his behalf from the gallery.
Adding in the contributions of Aberforth Dumbledore, Tré Mellanson and Martin Morley-Mauer, as well as a number of other Order of the Phoenix members, Harry showed how the identity of all the Horcruxes were discovered. In particular, he made reference to Martin’s revelation about how the Horcruxes were created. Proving that a Horcrux was expended each time Voldemort’s life was lost, he pointed out, saved many lives and shortened the war. Harry also pointed out that Martin had given his life destroying one of the last Horcruxes. By the looks on some faces, Harry guessed (correctly) that Martin made a good choice.
Harry ended with the events of September 11. Arthur called a long lunch recess and quickly escorted Harry from the chamber, along with Diane.
“You did a superb job, son,” Arthur told Harry sincerely, once they were in the anteroom. “I’m proud of you.” He pulled the young man into a warm embrace which Harry awkwardly returned.
When Arthur let go, Diane pulled him to herself and wrapped her arms around him. “I had no idea it was this complex, Harry. I’m so proud of you.” He had shared with Diane much of the story of his past few years at school, but never to this level of detail.
“Unfortunately, this is only the start. We may, that is, you may, spend the rest of your time here answering questions. Each inquiry member has up to two hours of time for follow-up items and you can count on everyone using every minute.”
Harry frowned, but he had always known it would be possible, even probable. And to top off the morning his headache was returning, though not as badly as over the holidays. Diane saw him grimace again and pointed to a chair with an expression that would brook no argument.
Asking Arthur for a pain potion, Diane sat next to Harry, on the arm of his chair, and began to massage his neck and head as Fleur had done. “Harry, you need to see a doctor… or healer. You have some of the symptoms of migraine headaches. They can be very debilitating; you don’t want to collapse during these sessions.”
Arthur returned with Bill and a small bottle. “Here, Harry, Mrs. Weasley gave me a couple single-dose pain killers when I started the new job. It’s a wonder I haven’t needed them, yet.”
Thanking Mr. Weasley, Harry downed the potion in one gulp and leaned back in his chair.
“Harry, the Aurors’ offices have some cots you can use, if you want to kip out for a while,” Bill told him. “You don’t have to be back until two o’clock.”
“Yeah, thanks, that’s a good idea.”
Diane and Bill helped Harry to his feet, but he was able to walk the remaining distance without assistance. On the third floor, they ran into Tonks who was busily delivering some reports to her superiors. She waved to the three of them and continued on her way. When Harry was settled, Bill and Diane left to find lunch in Muggle London. The usual plethora of street vendors were not about due to the cold weather, so they ducked into a decent looking pub and placed their order.
On their return walk to the Ministry, Bill struck up a conversation. “What are your plans after leaving Hogwarts, Diane? Are you thinking of staying in England?”
“Honestly, Bill? I haven’t had time to think about it. I do miss my friends from Salem, but I also feel at home here, even after such a short time. There are also many more opportunities to advance my skills here. You know the situation back in the States, don’t you?”
“Yes, it is unfortunate, but I hear things are turning around.” They approached the entrance to the Ministry and Bill brought up another idea. “Have you thought of teaching, back in the States, that is? Sounds like they could use someone with your talents.”
“Maybe. Why the third degree? Trying to get rid of me?” she asked kiddingly.
“No, not at all. You could probably get a job almost anywhere with your… you know, power. Dumbledore couldn’t do some of the things I saw you do.” Holding the door to the phone booth open, they squeezed inside. “Bill Weasley and Diane Bradley to see Arthur Weasley,” Bill said into the phone. A moment later they were descending below the streets of Muggle London.
Harry was up and about, looking much better when they returned. Diane handed him a hard roll with an assortment of meats layered colorfully inside. He looked at it suspiciously, removed a few pieces of meat and started eating. When he saw Diane watching him he shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, it’s not your filet.”
Bill went off to his father’s office to eat; Percy was joining them for lunch. As Harry ate, Diane watched him for any more signs of pain but he seemed fine when they returned to the chamber just before two.
Arthur called the room to order and yielded the floor to Max Diggory. As expected, and as planned beforehand, Max lead Harry on a line of questioning that focused on the events of the previous summer. This fleshed out many unanswered questions, but as all would soon experience, not nearly enough.
On day two Harry had his first experience with a hostile panel member. Gilbert Wimple immediately began to demand details about Horcrux theory, their creation and destruction. In spite of all he had learned from Martin Morley-Mauer, Harry could only answer part of most questions. But the most damning and frustrating questions to answer came shortly before lunch and near the end of Wimple’s barrage. Here the focus was on, specifically, how Tom Riddle had learned of Horcruxes. Under oath, Harry had to tread carefully to keep Horace Slughorn’s name out of the testimony. He was aided, fortunately, by imprecise questions.
“And exactly how did Tom Riddle come to know about Horcruxes?”
“Professor Dumbledore and I talked about this, sir.” This was a canned response Harry gave whenever he needed a moment to think. It usually worked. “We didn’t discover precisely when Riddle learned the magic of creating a Horcrux. But we do know that by the time he left Hogwarts he had…”
“Yes, yes, you’ve already told us when, and what; I want to how.”
“We don’t know how, sir, my testimony tells you everything I can recall.”
“You have no idea how Riddle found out about Horcruxes? That is your testimony?”
“Yes, sir.”
Whipple angrily turned to face Arthur Weasley. “He isn’t telling me everything, Weasley, and you know it.”
“I’m sure he isn’t telling you everything he knows, Gilbert. However, he is answering your questions truthfully or he would have broken his oath.” Arthur nodded to the large stone on the court recorder’s desk upon which Harry had placed his hand early in the day.
Analogous to swearing on a bible in Muggle courts, the ‘Truth Stone’ was as ancient in the Wizarding world as the legend of King Arthur. In fact, the ‘Truth Stone’ was alleged to be a part of the stone from which Arthur drew the sword, Excalibur, assuring him a place in history. But most contemporary historians believe it is just a bewitched rock; no one really knows. It is used extensively in non-criminal hearings; truth being the basis of jurisprudence in both Muggle and Wizarding England. The ‘Truth Stone,’ however, is not used in criminal proceedings since it might force a witness to incriminate him or herself unintentionally.
Harry had sworn upon the stone and offered, as was custom, proof of his oath by lying to a simple question. The stone glowed red until he corrected his statement. Detractors claim that the stone does not accurately gage ‘whole truths’ or ‘partial truths,’ a somewhat accurate assertion. But if questioned properly, a witness would have a difficult time lying. For example: if Wimple had asked Harry if he knew of anyone who had told Riddle anything about Horcruxes he would have been deceitful to omit Slughorn’s name.
The afternoon of day two was far easier on Harry than the morning. An aged wizard he had seen around the Ministry over the years, but whom he did not know personally, asked Harry to describe the history of his personal encounters with Riddle and the role the Prophecy played. Harry’s only annoyance with the man was his propensity to require him to answer questions that made him ‘look good.’ The extent of this became obvious when Harry was bombarded with questions from a suddenly friendly media later in the day. It felt relieving to be on their good side, but he also knew fortune was a fickle friend. Tomorrow the same reporters might call for his head.
With the second day complete, Arthur Owled McGonagall asking that Harry and Diane remain in London over the weekend to prepare for the next week of hearings. The Headmistress replied tersely that she would send their books and assignments to Grimmauld Place. Shortly before dinner, Ginny flew out of the fireplace of the redecorated house to deliver a small mountain of books and parchments. Remus tried to entice her to remain for dinner but it didn’t work.
“I have to be back at school in four and a half minutes, but thanks, Remus.” Then turning to Harry and Diane: “Hermione gathered everything you two will need.” She pointed to the pile, laughing. “You probably figured that out already.”
Following a long embrace and kiss good bye, during which Diane stood by smirking, Ginny disappeared into the cool green flames.
“Dinner,” Tonks announced. Harry scowled at Diane and ate little that evening.
By Sunday night Harry and Diane had completed their assignments and were in the parlor with Remus and Tonks talking about this and that. Mostly Diane and Tonks spoke about the wedding, work or school; Harry and Remus listened quietly and occasionally rolled their eyes at the other.
Monday and Tuesday were generally uneventful at the Ministry. There were tough questions and easy ones, but the information Harry imparted to the committee was boring in comparison to that of the previous week.
Wednesday was the last scheduled day of Harry’s testimony, and he was glad it was nearly over. Arriving in the chamber, Harry and Diane were surprised to see Bill Weasley speaking with Jason Graham and Jimmy Twofeet, the Native American who had helped them track down Nagini. Bill waved them over but Harry told Diane to go ahead, he was going to speak with Arthur Weasley to get a Potion for a smoldering headache he’d had since arriving earlier.
As the chamber was coming to order, Harry joined Diane at the front row where current and future witness sat. “Why are Jason and Jimmy here?”
“They’re testifying tomorrow,” replied Diane irritatedly.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I was supposed to testify tomorrow, but it looks like I’ll be pushed back another day.” Searching around the chamber, Diane saw another familiar face. “Oh look, there’s Aberforth.”
At the front of the chamber, Harry saw Aberforth Dumbledore speaking with Arthur Weasley. It was the first time Harry had seen him in four months. He looked tired and much worn, his color was poor and Harry suspected that he might still be having heart problems. Catching Aberforth’s eye, he smiled and nodded, Aberforth gave a small wave and then turned back to Arthur. A minute later he sat himself on the bench next to Harry.
“Hello, Harry, Diane,” he said pleasantly. “I understand you are finishing up today.”
Diane thumbed in Harry’s direction. “He is.”
“Yeah, I’ll be glad when this is over,” Harry admitted. “How are you? We stopped in a few times to see you but you were always out.”
Aberforth smiled vaguely and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you know.” But that was all he said, or could say. Arthur Weasley was gaveling the chamber to order.
Harry was called back up to the witness stand and reminded that his oath was still binding. Taking a seat, Harry looked over at Mr. Weasley and nodded. He was ready.
The questioning that morning dealt with the destruction of the final two Horcruxes: Nagini and the Coin. Harry narrated what he knew about Martin’s role in destroying the Coin Horcrux and how it had eventually killed the man. Then Milksop Garvey, a twenty-ish looking wizard whom Harry had never met before, asked him to describe the search for, and destruction of, the last Horcrux, Nagini.
The testimony was not very long, and Harry had to explain about the painful process he, Diane, Bill Weasley and Jimmy Twofeet went through to close in on their target. Some of the grimaces he let slip, too, were not only due to the painful memories, but to his most recent headache. But he made it through the questions in only an hour and was relieved that his time was nearly up.
Unexpectedly, Garvey asked Harry to remain for a moment and called Arthur into a side-bar, apparently asking him some procedural question. Mr. Weasley’s face instantly turned grave and he motioned for Aberforth to join them. Not a minute later, Arthur gaveled the meeting into a recess and called Harry, Aberforth, Jimmy Twofeet and Bill Weasley into the anteroom. Aberforth Dumbledore looked particularly grave.
“Harry,” Arthur began as soon as the door closed, “we need to review the last part of your testimony before proceeding. There appears to be some discrepancies between what you recall and what Bill and Jimmy told Garvey they remember.
“Er” sure, Mr. Weasley. But I told you everything I recall.”
“I’m sure you did, son, but you were nearly unconscious when Bill and Jimmy destroyed the Horcrux.” Arthur hesitated. “Harry, we were hoping you would consent to sharing that memory with us. Jimmy and Bill have also agreed to do so.”
Puzzled, but also concerned by Aberforth’s serious demeanor, Harry nodded. “Ok,” he said simply.
“Excellent. Harry, would you mind going first? Thank you: if you would just start at the point where you baited Nagini to come out for food. Aberforth?”
The last remaining Dumbledore pulled a round stone from one of his pockets and placed it on the table. It had runes carved into it.
“Is that a Pensieve, Aberforth?” asked Harry.
“No, but it can perform some of the functions of one. This is used to play back memories, but it has no capacity for storing them.”
Nodding, Harry took out his wand and extracted the memory from his head. Then tapping his wand in the edge of the stone, the memory was absorbed and a three-dimensional replay of the requested event began.
An indistinct cloud above the stone rapidly formed into the copse of trees where Diane, Bill and Jimmy had waited, hidden from a distant house. Harry’s voice came out of nowhere telling them Nagini was on the way…
As soon as Bill and Jimmy saw the snake, and that Harry had broken his mental link with it, they each used a simple machete to kill and physically destroy the vessel of the last Horcrux. As his final act, before leaving the area, Bill took the head of the snake and stored it in a rubber bag…
“Thank you, Harry, you can retrieve your memory now,” Aberforth said flatly. Harry did as he was told.
Leaning over, Aberforth placed his face in his gnarled hands and shook his head. “Bill, Jimmy… where was Boris Titov while you were killing the snake?”
They looked at each other and shrugged; Bill answered. “He went back to the continent before we even started out.” Placing his wand to his temple, Bill drew out the memory in question for all to watch. The scene just outside Hogwarts showed Titov’s departure from Bill’s perspective.
“Good luck, Harry,” said Titov, offering his hand.
“You’re not going?”
“No, I haff to go back to thee continent to geet the rest of my people here. And if I were caught... I know too much.” With that he turned and trotted out of sight.
Harry thought Aberforth was going to die of a stroke right in front of them; his expression was one of utter disappointment and his face dark purple. And Harry was not the only one to notice it.
“What is it, Abe,” Arthur and Bill asked at the same time.
“I’ll tell you what it is, Arthur: the only people who knew how to properly destroy a Horcrux were my brother, Martin, Boris and myself,” Aberforth said harshly.
Harry suddenly understood and didn’t like the way the discussion was headed.
“We killed it, Abe. We hacked the bloody thing to bits and you personally incinerated the head with the other Horcruxes,” Bill spoke up with great agitation; his voice carried a hint of panic, too.
Aberforth stood, his hands visibly shaking. “There was so much happening those last days.”
“For Merlin’s sake, Abe, what’s going on?” Arthur demanded, but it was Harry who provided the answer.
“The last Horcrux was not destroyed properly, was it Aberforth? It still exists, doesn’t it?” Harry’s face was turning pale and he rubbed his head absently, but then caught his action. A realization too horrible to imagine was surfacing. But in a way it did not surprise him much, for nothing had ever been simple or easy with his life.
Connecting the incidents of the past month, Harry saw a pattern. Somehow, someway, that tiniest fraction of Tom Riddle’s soul was still alive, and Harry knew exactly where. It was in the room with him that very minute. It was looking back at him, though its host didn’t know it yet. That there may be too little of the soul remaining to ever function properly or resurrect itself was irrelevant. It had mingled irretrievably with the snake’s mean and pathetic existence and when Nagini was killed that final fragment had sought out the closest available host, just as another part had with Snape and Quirrell years before. How its existence would ultimately manifest itself could only be guessed for there was no longer anyone alive who truly understood how the accursed magic worked. At least, no one known.
“No,” Aberforth answered, his voice despair incarnate. “I don’t think it was.”
Harry sighed and all eyes were upon him. Closing his mind to those present, he summoned Ankaa and the Phoenix flashed into the room a second later, landing gently on Harry’s outstretched arm and looking at him with sad eyes. Walking across the room, Harry whispered something into Arthur Weasley’s ear that appeared to leave him momentarily shocked. Then he turned to Bill Weasley and put his arm around him. At that very moment both disappeared in a flash of gold and red.